


At Work

by monyaka



Series: Femslash February 2020 [18]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2020, Hospitalization, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Overworking, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, onesided jaehee/mc, seven uses any pronouns but theyre feeling she/they in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monyaka/pseuds/monyaka
Summary: Day 19 of 29 : At WorkTwo people are married to their work, but only one gets hospitalized for it.[based on Jaehee's second bad story ending]
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Kang Jaehee
Series: Femslash February 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619584
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	At Work

**Author's Note:**

> jaehee's bad end two really did mess me up, real talk. can we get a jaehee kang deserves better in this house  
> please note the tags; there is sensitive content in this fic.

Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat, repeat, repeat. It sets itself as a hazy beat, a pressure between her eyes. She’s the marionette propelled by the pain that lances in her head with a sickening rhythm, her warm yellow eyes devoid of life or reason or rhyme.

She stares at herself in the mirror and doesn’t like what she sees. The bags under her eyes she can’t fully cover up with concealer. The firm line of her lips, so stern and unfeeling that she can’t remember what it’s like to genuinely relax. The life drained from her soul, her spirit, from too many years working at this company.

She rakes a hand through her hair, adjusts her collared shirt. It has frills down the front; idly, she runs long fingers down it just to feel something. 

This company’s going to eat her alive.

“Okay, Luciel!” she cheers to herself, unrolling a hair tie from her wrist and putting her hair up in a ponytail. “You can do this. It’s just another job. Just another job, and then you can go home.”

But she’s not sure where home is, and it doesn’t matter, because she’ll get another job on the way back, anyway.

And they do. But as they drive home, long fake nails tapping against the wheel, they get a call from Jumin.

“Jaehee’s collapsed.”

And suddenly, their deadlines don’t seem all that important anymore.

“What hospital?”

He gives the name, not bothering to question the sudden urgency to Seven’s voice. As much as they try to deny it, the RFA members are family. The only family they’ve ever known. The only family that really matters.

“Family,” she scoffs to herself, checking her blind spot before pulling a U-turn. “Yeah, that’s what you’re feeling right now.”

Because she knows better than anyone that her heartbeat doesn’t quicken when Jaehee comes online out of sisterly affection. (Wow, so in-character! Mary Vanderwood would be so proud, but more likely, she’d kill her!) She doesn’t crack jokes at Jaehee’s expense or grin wide at her computer screen or spend every moment wondering when she’ll pop up just because she likes her like a colleague.

No, what Seven feels for Jaehee is trouble, but they’re still gunning it to the hospital.

“Jumin Han sent me,” she’s saying to reception. “Is Jaehee Kang okay?”

And it’s red tape and bureaucracy, and why does she sound like a man, they’re not sure they can let her up. They look at her like she’s dangerous.

She is, more than they think.

They don’t know why they didn’t ask Jumin for the room number, why they’re bothering to do things by-the-book instead of hacking their way into the hospital. Maybe it’s because Jaehee always says she doesn’t like their lifestyle. Maybe, without even thinking, they’re becoming what she wants in the hopes she’ll want them back.

“Calm down,” says the stoic Jumin, and places a hand on Seven’s shoulder. Emotionless and calm. Uncaring. Seven’s heart boils with rage. “I will take her up,” he says to reception, and sweeps Seven away.

Jaehee’s only like this, Luciel thinks, because of him. Her fists clench and unclench, but then she smiles. “Haha, guess I wasn’t really thinking.” She’s shaking.

“You weren’t. But considering the feelings you have for Assistant Kang, it’s understandable.”

Luciel flushes as red as her natural hair. 

“It was just a hypothesis, but you’ve proven me right already,” notes the CEO. “You must like her a lot. Unfortunately, if she dates now, she will become inefficient at her work.”

Inefficient at her work. Seven has never wanted to murder someone more than right now. They’ve never wanted to murder anyone, ever. Not even their mother. And now they’re seeing red, seeing it so viscerally that they have to force themselves to close their eyes and grin. 

“Hey, don’t you know that if you make her do so much work, she’ll end up with bad health? Just like now.”

Their direction changes, shoes crossing the threshold of Jaehee’s room. Seven’s heart screams in her ears, blocking out Jumin’s response about vacation days and profit margins. 

It’s like looking in a mirror.

She’s pale and sickly, the bags under her eyes prominent. Her skin is lifeless, coated with a sheen of sweat. Her clothes are rumpled. 

She looks more peaceful than Seven has ever seen her.

“Jaehee,” Seven says, and unthinkingly moves to take her hand.

Her head falls to the side, lips moving questioningly in the shape of the newest member’s name. Luciel forces her smile to stay steady. “No, Jaehee. It’s Seven. I was just, uh... on my way home from work.” Overcompensation bubbles through her veins and beats in her blood. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Oh, oh, Jaehee, you wouldn’t believe what happened at work today. Really, there was a long-haired cat with the voice of God, and... and...”

Jaehee is saying nothing.

“I told you to let me work on the presentation,” they whisper, clutching her hand, clutching their prayer necklace. 

Jaehee closes her eyes. “She told me to work harder. That I should be grateful to have a job at all. I knew... you wouldn’t... to Mr. Han’s expectations...”

Her heart twists.

“...and she was right. But I can’t... anymore.”

Jaehee’s lips form around the words  _ I’m broken _ , and Seven almost starts crying. But they steel themselves and run their fingers up her forearm.

_ I love you anyway, _ they almost say.

Almost.

“Don’t give up,” is what they say, fingers closing against Jaehee’s hand. “I... I really...”

Why can’t she say it? Why do her thoughts career around her head, screaming and ricocheting like mad bullets made of foam and potato chips? Why does she feel like she’s about to faint right here?  _ Nurse, admit me too! _ It’s exhausting. A smile splits her right in half. She sees Jaehee’s face, so devoid of life. The same face she saw in the mirror this morning. The face that cries out for death every day.

“Don’t give up, okay, Jaehee?”

Jaehee closes her fist, envelopes Seven’s hand in her own. “I never thought you... Luciel, you’re different... when you’re not in the chatroom.”

The hacker 707 lets out a breathless little laugh. “I can’t be worried? You... You passed out, Jaehee. You sound like you really gave up.”

“I did.” Her eyes are so glassy, Seven can’t stand it. “I... I think it’s time to take a long vacation.”

Why does that sound like a metaphor?

“I-If you give up...” This is weak. This is so weak, but Seven has always admired Jaehee and they can’t let her go now. They left their family for this life, but for some reason, it breaks them to think of leaving Jaehee, too. “If you give up, I will too.”

She closes her eyes. Carefully, Luciel kisses her knuckles. Jumin’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead before he lets out a sigh and shuffles from foot to foot.

“I’ll think about it.”

A train chugging along the tracks can’t continue if the tracks are cold and unoiled. Luciel will tend to her tracks day in and day out if she must. She’ll water and prune her garden, whether the newest member of the RFA does or not.

_ I love you, _ she wants to say. “I love you,” she says, barely audible. 

Jaehee smiles.


End file.
